Hiyoshi
Wakashi was behaving a lot like Atobe Keigo that morning, Akutagawa
Jirou thought to himself. Six of the eight Hyotei regulars were
sprawled out on the open bank near the courts, taking in the morning
sun to ease the ache of the weekend's defeat. Nobody in Hyotei liked
to see the team lose; their pride overruled their individualism at
times and on the morning after Fudomine's victory against them, all
were united in anger and shame. Jirou cocked his head to look up at
his teammate, - the aspiring captain of the team -, as he loomed over
their heads.

"It
was a shocking defeat," Hiyoshi was saying, as though the loss
were a personal injustice. The grass raked up underneath his heavy
feet and his tennis shoes looked a little dirtier than normal that
morning. "I can't believe Atobe-san didn't investigate who
Fudomine might put forward before throwing in a sub-regular team.
They're subs for a reason, after all."

Jirou
didn't like the way Hiyoshi said '-san'. Somehow it seemed more
offensive than honorific, when he said it.

"It's
what we did the year before, and it worked perfectly then. There was
nothing wrong with the strategy, Hiyoshi-san. Fudomine were a
surprise to us, granted, but we more than made up for it in the
consolation match. Jirou's match against Rudolph's Fuji Yuuta was
nothing short of spectacular." Oshitari interjected from his
position against a thick tree stump. His eyes were restful behind his
glasses and one hand idly toyed with his shoelaces.

Jirou
stretched himself out in the thick grass, turned his head upside down
to offer Oshitari a small grin. "That was a fun game. We'll be
alright, won't we? I mean - I know we let ourselves down a bit, but
we've gotten through and we need to focus on Seigaku now. Tennis
should be more fun than this."

"Nothing's
fun when you lose, kid." Shishido interrupted, leaning back
against the same tree that loomed over Oshitari's head. "I know
you find being defeated terribly fascinating but not everyone does,
alright? Atobe's probably getting the shit torn out of him by
Sakaki-sensei, and I'm off the regulars for sure. You need to get
with reality for one bleeding s-"

"Today
isn't a very fun day, Jirou-san." Ootori said softly, closing a
hand upon Shishido's elbow with surprising tenacity. "Wait until
we get onto the courts, then it'll get back to normal. Everyone's a
bit heated after the weekend and we need to put our energies into
some good matches instead of wasting them bickering amongst
ourselves."

"He's
right, though." Gakuto commented in a nasal tone, lying on his
stomach and kicking his legs backward and forward. "He'll be off
the team faster than Atobe can say, 'Hey, where's my chauffeur?'"

"That's
not helpful, Gakuto." Ootori replied in a clipped voice, eyes
firm against Gakuto's petulant gaze. After a moment's pause, quiet
resumed, and Shishido slanted an appreciative gaze Ootori's way. His
friend shrugged it off with a wriggle of his shoulders and, looking
up at the tall school building, palmed a hand over his forehead. "I
wonder when they're going to be done with him in there."

"I
wouldn't be surprised if they decide to replace him." Hiyoshi
muttered, peevishly. "As a captain, he should have known
better."

"They
won't," Ootori responded quickly, as Jirou's stunned gaze caught
his attention. "Sakaki-sensei may be cold, but he knows that
Atobe-san is the best leader for Hyotei right now. He's not a coach
or a data specialist, remember. The strategy was fine, we just
couldn't have predicted that Fudomine were going to put their top
three players against us. That's not Atobe-san's fault. Personally,
if they decide to get rid of Atobe-san, I imagine that this team
would crumble at least temporarily. We can't afford that, what with
Kantou Regionals coming up so soon."

"Hyotei
is cut-throat," Oshitari added. "But not stupid."

Gakuto's
eyes moved from his doubles partner to Ootori's, gaze caught by the
frustrated Shishido's effort to embed his fist into the bark of the
tree. The heat was making them all restless and although he had never
seen eye-to-eye with Ryou, he wouldn't have liked to be in his
position. To be thrown from the regular team was not something any
wearer of a Hyotei badge would be psyched about, but Shishido was
particularly proud and his 6-0 defeat by Tachibana Kippei had been
devastating. He was awaiting his final sentence; one that would come
from the absent Atobe, and the long silences were doing him no good.
As Gakuto eyed up his little team, he tried to imagine it without
Shishido and couldn't. In all honesty, he couldn't see a Hyotei
without any one of the people who stood before him. Each member
seemed integral in their own little way, and Gakuto pushed the notion
out of his mind that a new regular might soon be taking Shishido's
place.

Hiyoshi
was the sarcasm, the cynic, the devil's advocate. He was the only one
among them who not only disagreed with Atobe 99 of the time but also
despised him, by virtue that he had to defeat him to gain the
captaincy. Whilst his grumbling ways weren't always disposed to
harmonious team morale, Gakuto appreciated Hiyoshi's mediation of the
idolatry that seemed a disease within Hyotei. Oshitari was the
watchful eye; the one who never got involved in arguments but whose
opinion often settled them. Oshitari was respected in the same way
that Tezuka of Seigaku might be; the low-voiced way he delivered
judgement seemed often to Gakuto akin to the voice of God, such was
the faith in its true justice. Ootori was the softly-spoken social
leader of the team. Although he was often referred to as a pushover
with a gentle heart, all eight of the regulars knew differently.
Ootori liked the team dynamic to remain friendly and considerate and
was quite prepared to put his foot down when these needs were not
being met. The steely look that could in a moment take over his
kindly eyes was never ignored by his teammates and although eager to
please, Ootori's confidence was quietly overwhelming. He fitted in
with Shishido rather well; calming his hot spirit and balancing his
polarised viewpoints. Shishido was the sort of person who allowed
only for black and white and whose temper was just as discriminating.
With Ootori's class and patience nearby, Shishido seemed to feel more
settled and it was no surprise to Gakuto that the two remained firm
friends. Jirou was the one who didn't fit, somehow. His ambition, his
determination and his skill were all fluffy around the edges like an
expensive pillow. There wasn't a bad bone in Jirou's body. He was
mischievous, easily bored and quick to exhaust, but his character was
innocent and he went out of his way to inject Hyotei with some cheer.
It would be a mistake to assume him lazy or unskilled, but Jirou's
heart lay more in being a member of a gang of friends than in a
snobbish tennis team.

He
himself; well, where did he fit in? He was a bitchy, petulant and
often scornful personality, who supplied Hyotei with more than its
fair share of elitism. Gakuto hated to see his team lose and although
he didn't plan to go pro with his own game, seeing Hyotei sitting at
the top of the tree was of vital importance to him. He hated boastful
members of other teams and often stood at the forefront of practises,
using insults and barbs to motivate his teammates.

Oshitari's
gaze finally deferred to the window; the last of the little team to
look up. Ootori's face had taken on a characteristic worried tone,
and even Hiyoshi was standing, arms folded, awaiting the now
fifteen-minutes delayed arrival of their captain. Gakuto wondered,
hands under chin, why Atobe had been chosen as the one. The main
actor amongst this wild variation of characters; the binding force,
the striving figurehead. Where had it happened, that Atobe had taken
root as the central column in Hyotei's willowy, frail building? The
tree stump that held the branches upright, kept the leaves from
dusting the dirty ground? The flower that reached, carrying petals,
toward the burning sun?

"And
here I was thinking that Hyotei were selfish glory-grabbers."
Hiyoshi commented wryly. "Even I would rather beat Atobe into
the ground and take his place than have him removed before I get the
chance."

"We're
all individuals." Jirou commented, his eyes glazing over as he
twirled a daisy between finger and thumb. "And individually, we
all respect him."

"Most
of us, anyway." Gakuto added, with a sly look in Hiyoshi's
direction.

"If
something falls on us, we'll all take it, okay?" Ootori's voice,
ever measured and predictable. "We may be a bunch of tyrants
thrown together into a melting pot, but we're a team in a funny sort
of way. I won't let him take all of this on his own. We're all
Hyotei. We'll lick our wounds and carry on - and we'll beat Seigaku.
We'll wipe the floor with them. Agreed?"

"Does
this mean I have to be nice to him whilst he's chucking me off the
team?"

"A
little courteousy wouldn't go amiss, Shishido-san. Don't call him an
asshole like you did when he suggested that your temper wasn't a
great asset to the tennis court."

"He
called me a tempestuous wankpot!"

"I'm
sure he meant the same thing."

"He
needs our support," Jirou interrupted, throwing the daisy over
his shoulder. "And we wouldn't be Hyotei if we rejected him."

"Yeah,"
Gakuto agreed. "And imagine what those piddly fucks at Seigaku
would think if they knew we were ignoring our captain, for crying out
loud."

"Call
it selfishness. Call it pride. Call it caring. Call it saving your
reputation. Call it whatever you like," Oshitari intoned from
his corner, getting to his feet. "But for one reason or another,
it's in all our interests to save Atobe's neck. To keep him as a
rival, a benchmark, a friend, a teammate, or a sugar daddy. I don't
care what word you use. What's important to me is that we stop
sitting here discussing it like girls and get on with it.
Shishido-san, go practice your grovelling. You're going to need it.
Hyotei isn't Hyotei without your hysterics. The rest of you; who's up
for getting started on the courts? There's no point in us ambling
around as if we're awaiting his funeral. Let's go on with it."

"Good
point well made." Shishido remarked as he lolled off, swinging
his racket in deranged circles with one wrist. "There's no point
in making his ego any bigger, after all."

"Absolutely."
Gakuto jumped to his feet, slung his hands into his pockets and
headed off for the court. "Great captain, but..."

"...thinks
he's God." Hiyoshi muttered darkly, following Gakuto out with a
bowed head.

"We
can start with the supportive attitude anytime you like, guys."
Ootori finished, his voice riddled with sarcasm.

Accepting
Ootori's outstretched hand, Jirou watched as his team dispersed over
the grass and onto the court. He observed as Oshitari easily caught
up Gakuto, swerving a hand over his head so as to emphasise his
slight build. The screeched response was familiar and comforting.
Hiyoshi followed them both with a shake of head; disapproving, biding
his time, a snake in the grass. Ootori and Shishido made their way in
the opposite direction, the former determined to teach the latter the
delicate art of the apology. He remained rooted to the spot for a few
seconds, pulling out his t-shirt from his sweatpants, and sighed. He
didn't think any other team was as high-maintenance as this. They had
a strange sort of companionship; one riddled with dramatics and
uprisings and dangerous mightiness, but when the chips were down,
Jirou doubted that any other team had the united spirit that Hyotei
did. It wasn't that they lost their individuality, he figured.
Shishido would still be bad-tempered, Gakuto rude, Hiyoshi demanding,
Ootori calming and Oshitari knowing. It was just that when Hyotei
were down, Shishido would become determined, Gakuto motivated,
Hiyoshi ambitious, Ootori supportive and Oshitari guiding. Sometimes,
the very qualities that made them threatening Kings also made them
nurturing paupers. Perhaps Shishido was right after all, about the
world being black and white. In light, Hyotei was black and searing
with obsessive determination. In darkness, Hyotei's eight moons came
out in full force, seeking their return to dawn.

Jirou
wouldn't say that being defeated terribly fascinated him. But this
air of vulnerability gave him a reason to believe that Hyotei weren't
such a horrible lot, despite what other people said. He liked them
all better, really, when they lost.

Slowly, he
trekked out behind Hiyoshi toward the sun-dappled court.

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